


The Bodyguard

by QueenyB



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenyB/pseuds/QueenyB
Summary: Autor is the rich, young heir of a very powerful company and is used to near-absolute autonomy and is rather peeved to discover that his father has hired a new bodyguard.Femio Rosenberg is talkative and speaks to everyone the same way, which annoys the hell out of his young master. But that's part of the fun, isn't it?
Relationships: Autor/Femio (Princess Tutu)
Kudos: 4





	1. The Meeting

_ This is stupid _ , Autor thought. He rotated his arms, clasping his Jacob and Co. sapphire cufflinks to his black Armani shirt and pulling down the cuffs.  _ I don’t need a babysitter.  _

He glared at the mirror as he smoothed down his well-trimmed navy blue hair and adjusted his round Dior spectacles, dust-free of course. His father hadn’t insisted that he attend the meeting looking presentable as if Autor could do any less than look his best.

A knock echoed through his room. On the other side of the door was a young woman with curly brown hair and burgundy eyes. She nodded politely. “Excuse me, Autor, your father requests your company.”

“Thank you, Rue. I shall be there shortly,” Autor replied, adjusting his blue Armani tie and grabbing his jacket. 

She bowed slightly and left. He thought Rue was around his age, though he had never bothered to ask. He could admit, however, that she was quite smart and capable. Of the secretaries that his father had had in the last few years, she was easily the most competent. 

Taking one last look in the mirror to ensure he still looked pristine, Autor left his room and began the trek through his family’s sizable mansion. His father was most likely in his office, briefing the… new hire. Autor’s long legs made quick work of the long, empty hallways. 

It was a rather sparse room, furnished with a simple wooden desk and matching chairs that were made by his father when Autor was just a child. The walls were lined with bookshelves laden with literature and an eclectic assortment of knick-knacks. The door was open, though Autor decided to knock lightly on the doorframe anyway. 

“There you are,” his father said, smiling brightly and gesturing for his son to sit in one of the chairs. 

The other was already occupied by a young man with unruly burgundy hair and an olive complexion. His expression was full of mirth and confidence as he chatted comfortably with Autor’s father. 

Autor felt his stomach roll. 

Autor leaned gracefully into his seat and crossed his long legs, smiling politely. “Hello, Father,” he responded. He didn’t bother greeting the newcomer, or sparing him any further glances for that matter. As far as Autor was concerned, he was little more than an irritating cat. He was, however, grateful that the intruder didn’t bother to initiate conversation. 

“Autor,” his father continued, running a hand through his silver hair. “I would like to introduce you to Femio Rosenberg. He is going to be your new bodyguard.” 

Autor pinched the bridge of his nose as Mr. Rosenberg opened his mouth to say how excited he was to start this new position, and that he hoped they could get along well, and a lot of other blithering nonsense that Autor tuned out. 

“Father,” Autor replied, cutting Mr. Rosenberg off. “I don’t think this is necessary.” 

The Chairman shook his head. “Nonsense. A lot of people your age have bodyguards.”

Autor rolled his eyes.  _ Only if they’re rich enough to afford one, anyway.  _

“I am old enough to take care of myself,” Autor protested. “If I ever did need a bodyguard, it was when I was a child.” 

The Chairman clasped his hands together tightly and nodded. “An oversight on my part. One which I am remedying now. Mr. Rosenberg is here to stay, Autor, and I expect you to treat him with respect.” 

Autor gripped the arm of his chair tightly. “Have Fakir guard me, then,” he replied, tone steely. 

“No,” his father responded simply. “Fakir is family, not an employee.” 

Autor scoffed, then crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "And if I refuse?"

The Chairman's eyes iced over and Autor felt a shiver run down his spine. Perhaps he shouldn't have taken it this far, but since he had, he wasn't going to back down. 

Slowly, deliberately, his father dialed a phone number. Rue picked up on the second ring. 

"Yes, Mr. Scrivener?" 

"Freeze Autor's accounts for me, please."

Autor shot forward. "You can't do that," he shouted. 

The Chairman raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I certainly can. You either accept Mr. Rosenberg and allow him to do his job, or you will spend the rest of your life coming to me for every penny you spend. I will give you a few days to consider." 

Hearing the dismissal, Autor rose from his seat and stormed out of the room. He practically ran out of the house, startling a few tittering maids and nearly knocking over a kitchen-hand on his way. The youth didn't stop until he was safely surrounded by rose bushes. 

He screamed. A few sparrows erupted from the bushes and flew away. 

"You're wound pretty tight, aren't you,  _ mon cheri _ ?” a voice asked. 

Autor hadn’t realized he’d been followed. 

“I'm not your dear,” Autor snapped. 

Mr. Rosenberg switched his spoken language to French. “You speak the language of love, I see.” 

Autor resisted the urge to punch him, for following him, if nothing else. He wanted to be left  _ alone _ . 

“Better than you, it appears,” Autor answered, also in French. Not because he wished to speak the infuriating language, but more because he felt like flaunting his prowess. 

Mr. Rosenberg grinned smugly. “My father was French, I will have you know. Perhaps it’s just a different dialect.” 

Autor raised an eyebrow. He doubted it but decided to turn and walk away instead of continuing the conversation. It wasn’t worth the effort. 

“Now now,” Mr. Rosenberg said, keeping in step with his new charge. “No need to run off,  _ mon cheri _ .”

“Go away,” Autor groaned. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I am your shadow now, young master.” 

Autor turned on his heel and Mr. Rosenberg nearly ran into him. 

“Then shadow from further away,” Autor hissed. 

Mr. Rosenberg raised his arms in surrender and backed off a few steps. He let Autor get a few yards ahead of him before continuing his journey. 

Autor watched him from the corner of his eye and groaned. He had to find a way to get rid of this bodyguard, without losing his financial independence. 


	2. A Challenge

As the tapping sound of Autor's angry stride faded into the distance, the Chairman leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He sighed heavily and looked at Femio, who had risen from his seat reflexively when his charge left the room.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rosenberg. I'm afraid Autor is going to be a lot to handle." 

Femio waved nonchalantly and flipped his burgundy curls slightly. 

"I'm not worried,  _ monsieur _ . I've dealt with cases like these before. Just give him some time to adjust."

Mr. Scrivener nodded quietly and stared down the hallway.

"If I may,  _ monsieur _ , I will be able to do my job far more effectively if I know what I am keeping the young master safe from.” 

The Chairman nodded. “There have been some new developments at the company. I’m worried that a few of our competitors may try to force my hand by kidnapping my son. He isn’t very well versed in self-defense and isn’t very wary of his surroundings. I’ll just feel a lot better knowing that someone is keeping an eye on him.” 

Femio smiled and nodded politely. “I understand. Thank you,  _ monsieur _ . I shall do my best. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He bowed and walked out of the room. 

#

Femio thought his new assignment would be rather enjoyable. His last master was a crotchety old man who was boring as tar and smelled like cheese. All he wanted Femio to do was follow him around his well-protected estate. It was rather boring, and a waste of time and money, if you asked him. 

Mr. Scrivener, however, seemed to be much more practical, and his son was a bundle of entertainment. 

Young Master Autor was exactly what Femio was hoping for, a spoiled rich boy used to getting his way, and a fuse to match his limited patience. But he was also calculating in a way that surprised the guard, quiet and vicious, like a crouching lynx. 

_ Plus the young master was hot as hell _ , Femio thought, grinning quietly. 

Autor strode through the rose bushes with long and deliberate strides, and Femio kept pace a few yards behind him. Then, Autor turned and entered a hedge maze. 

Femio had to close the distance a bit in order to keep his charge within eyesight. Turn after turn after turn they went until they emerged in the center of the maze. It was a well-manicured space with a few stone benches to rest on, and a statue of two lovers dancing in the exact center. 

Autor stopped in front of the statue and waited for Femio to catch up. Then he turned on his heels and faced him. 

“I will say this only once,” he said, sunlight glinting off his round glasses. “I don’t want you. I don’t need a bodyguard, and I will do whatever I can to get rid of you.” 

As he spoke, Autor gradually closed the distance between himself and the bodyguard until he towered over him. Femio’s breath hitched and his heart began to pound. He swallowed thickly and grinned. 

“I do love a challenge,  _ mon cheri _ .” 

Autor frowned. “Don’t call me that,” he stated before turning and leading the way out of the maze. 

_ The young master is going to be trouble _ , Femio thought, following him.  _ Quite troublesome indeed.  _

#

The next few days passed in much the same manner. Autor went about his daily life flatly ignoring the chattering bodyguard. He would go to the company and quietly work on his assignments while Femio stood near the door, observant. When he went home, he sat in his favorite armchair and blasted through his current novel while Femio sat across from him and tried to get him to talk about his book. 

During dinner, the Chairman invited the bodyguard to sit with them, and Autor glared at the two of them while they conversed comfortably. He remained silent as a statue. Immediately afterward, Autor rushed to his room and stayed there, where Femio was explicitly forbidden, until the next morning. 

For his part, Femio was perfectly fine with the arrangement. He spent the day watching a modern-day Adonis focus intently on work, relax in a plush chair, and eat with all the dignity of a king. The best part of the day, however, was when Autor sat and read. 

Femio enjoyed watching the thoughtless expressions flit across his charge’s face. He wondered, briefly, if  _ he _ would ever be able to get the young master to smile at him the way he grinned softly at the pages. 

“Don’t you get tired of this,” Autor asked one morning. He was looking out the window of the Mercedes, watching the trees flit past them. 

“Of what?” Femio asked from the driver’s seat. 

“Of following me around. I don’t do anything.” 

Femio chuckled. “On the contrary,  _ mon cheri _ , you do a lot, and you do it with flair.” 

Autor glared at him through the rearview mirror. “I spend the day sitting and reading.” 

“Yes, but you do it in style. I enjoy my work,  _ mon cheri _ .” 

“You have it easy if nothing else,” the young master replied. 

Femio smiled.  _ I certainly do not have it easy.  _ “Only because you are so diligent.”

Autor grunted, ending the conversation. 

Femio pulled into the parking garage and drove slowly up to the rooftop lot. He parked next to the Chairman’s Rolls Royce and opened the door. He was grasping the handle of his charge’s door when he heard a bang. The concrete near behind him cratered. 

Judging by the angle, Femio was certain that if the bullet had been even an inch to the right, he would have been hit. 

“Get down,” he shouted at Autor as he crouched and climbed back in the front seat. He pulled out of the lot and began racing down the ramp. 

“What was that?” Autor asked. He was flat on the floor of the backseat, his hair tousled and his eyes were a little wild. 

“A gunshot. Call the Chairman and tell him we are returning to the house,” Femio replied. He pulled out his own phone and began to call the police. 

**End of Chapter.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story so far. It makes me feel quite happy that people are enjoying it. If you haven't already, please leave a comment or a kudos, and I will return shortly. 
> 
> Happy Reading!


	3. Truths Revealed

As soon as Autor could get out of the car, he bolted and headed straight for his room. He had called his father during the ride back and, with Mr. Rosenberg’s assistance, filled him in on the situation. The Chairman sounded concerned, though Autor was fairly certain that he wasn’t entirely surprised. 

Mr. Rosenberg followed Autor to his door and waited outside. Autor could hear him humming to himself and wondered why he bothered to stand there. The bodyguard could easily go to his office or wander the mansion. How bothersome. At least he had the good sense not to follow Autor into his room. 

Unable to sit around and do nothing for the day, Autor booted his home computer up and logged into the company servers. He called Malen, his assistant, and had her fax over a sizable portion of the stack of papers that he had on his desk. In a few short minutes he was buried deep in work, exactly where he wanted to be. A thoughtless automaton just doing his job. 

As the light through his windows was darkening to amber, Autor heard the rumble of his father’s Rolls Royce approaching the house. The young man stretched his back, logged out of his computer, and began his trek calmly down the stairs. 

“Did your work go smoothly,  _ mon cheri? _ ” Mr. Rosenberg asked, easily stepping into place as Autor passed him. 

“Yes, thank you,” Autor responded. 

Autor didn’t bother knocking on the door of his father’s office. The Chairman was standing in the window talking rapidly and waved at Mr. Rosenberg to shut the door behind him. 

“I understand there isn’t much evidence to go on, Officer, but I expect you to do a thorough investigation.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Keep me informed.” 

The Chairman sighed and sat behind his desk. “I’m sure you want an explanation,” he said at length. 

Autor leaned back and crossed his legs. “Naturally.”

The Chairman leaned forward and clasped his hands together on his desk. “I’m not entirely sure about the specifics, but I received an anonymous letter last week informing me that you may be in danger. I called the police immediately, of course, but because there was no proof of foul play, there was nothing they could do. My next option was to hire a bodyguard. 

“However, I didn’t want a guard that  _ looked _ like a guard, but rather someone that could blend in with your lifestyle. Mr. Rosenberg is very skilled and excellent in his profession, but truth be told he was hired partially because he doesn’t look like a typical bodyguard.” 

The Chairman glanced at Femio. “I hope you can forgive me, Mr. Rosenberg.”

Femio smiled politely. It’s not as if it was the first time he had been hired for his good looks and charm. “Of course,  _ monsieur _ . The aesthetics make a statement, no matter what the situation.” 

As the Chairman continued, the bodyguard glanced at his charge. Autor’s hands were clasped tightly in his lap, so tight that his knuckles were turning white, though his face betrayed none of his thoughts. 

“I thought it was best not to tell you,” the Chairman said, “because I didn’t know if the letter was serious. Thankfully, Mr. Rosenberg was there today. Who knows what could have happened if you had gone to work on your own.” 

Autor bolted up and slammed his hands down on the desk hard enough to rattle the glass paperweights. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Autor replied, voice quiet. 

The Chairman opened his mouth, but Autor continued. 

“Perhaps,  _ Father _ , if I had known about the danger, I could have been prepared for the possibility that I was going to get shot at. I could have worn a vest under my clothes, or upgraded my car to something a little more bulletproof. There are a million things that I could have, and would have, done if you had just told me the truth from the start.” 

Autor’s voice was clipped, and he refused to look at the Chairman. He stood there, shaking, for a moment before turning on his heel and walking out of the room as quickly as his long legs could carry him. 

#

Femio returned home that night tired and limp. He opened the door to the small house that he shared with his parents and pulled off his boots. All he wanted to do was eat a decent meal and take a long bath before crawling into bed. 

“I’m home,” he called. 

“It’s about time!” his uncle replied, bursting into the hallway with arms outstretched. He was a mountain of a man with huge muscles and a very manly mustache. His hair was the color of mud and his eyes seemed to sparkle. “I’ve been waiting to see you for ages.” 

“Uncle Montan,” Femio exclaimed. “It’s good to see you. How long are you in town?” 

“Only a few more days. We are going to start harvesting corn soon. I’ll be sure to bring you a bushel.”

Femio shuddered. There was no way he and his parents would be able to eat a hundred ears of corn. “How about just bringing around twenty?” he suggested. 

“That’s what I told him,” Femio’s father responded. 

Femio and his uncle rounded the corner into the kitchen. His father, a tall thin man with short burgundy hair, sat at the table in front of a chess board. Montan returned to his seat across from him, and the two continued their battle of wits. 

“Come on, Katze, focus!” Montan exclaimed. “You can do better than this.”

Femio chuckled and began digging in the refrigerator. He found some alfredo and scooped some out onto a plate. 

“So, how was work?” his father asked. 

Femio poured himself a glass of iced tea and sat at the table. “Same old, same old. Spent most of it peacefully in the hallway while the young master did his work.” 

“Really? Wasn’t he supposed to go into the office today?” 

Femio shrugged. “He changed his mind.” 

Montan glanced at his nephew and smirked. “So on a scale of one to ten, how hot is your new charge?”

Femio nearly spit out his drink. “Uncle, what kind of question is that?”

Katze glanced at his brother and his son and smiled. 

“You haven’t said a damn word about him,” Montan replied, eyeing the youth. “Usually we have to force you to stop blabbering on about your charges.”

“Your uncle has a point. Last time this happened you got fired for, what was it again, ‘unwanted romantic attention’?” Katze replied. 

Femio rolled his eyes and groaned. “ _ Mon Dieu!  _ A simple misunderstanding.” 

Montan and Katze shared a glance, then shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Femio replied. He took a large fork-full of pasta and stuffed it in his mouth. 

“So?” Montan replied after a while. “What’s his rating?”

Femio sighed and tossed his dishes in the sink. “He’s a ten, if you must know. I’m going to bed,” he grumbled quietly. 

#

The next morning, Femio arrived at work to a surprise. Autor was standing outside and talking to a young blond man that was a head taller than him, and twice as scary looking. 

“Good morning,  _ mon cheri _ ,” he said. Autor’s hair shined a little in the early morning sunlight, and it was all Femio could do to not mess it up. “Did you sleep well?” 

“There you are,” Autor replied. “This is Lysander, he will be my driver from now on.” 

“ _ Pardon? _ ” 

“I thought about it last night. Father doesn’t want anyone to know you are a bodyguard, right? So it wouldn’t make sense for you to drive me around and follow me everywhere. Drivers don’t follow their bosses into the building, so that excuse was out. I also don’t need an assistant, Malen does an excellent job. So there was only one solution.” 

Autor tilted his head in such a way that the light glinted off his lenses, blinding Femio briefly. “And that is?” the guard asked. 

“You masquerade as my friend, of course,” Autor replied tersely. 

Femio blinked rapidly. “Excuse me?” 

Autor ignored him and climbed in the back seat. “Well?” he asked once he noticed that Femio hadn’t moved. “Get in.” 

This wasn’t how Femio had intended his work day to start, but he had to admit, it wasn’t terrible. 

**End of Chapter**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loving writing this story. It's been forever since I've been this inspired or motivated. So if you've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading. It really means a lot. 
> 
> If you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a kudos or a comment. I read every one and getting that notification reminds me that I have to write the next chapter. Can't let this one live in my head. 
> 
> Happy Reading!
> 
> P.S. All of the names have red squiggles. How dare the word processor not like such fabulous names?!


	4. Dinner and a Show

_ There are worse things, _ Femio thought,  _ than lounging in an armchair and flipping through a magazine for work. _ He glanced over the pages and watched his charge for a moment. Autor was sitting stiffly in his office chair, black silk jacket dangling over the back. His sleeves were rolled up, sapphire cufflinks safely placed in an old glass ashtray on his desk. He hadn’t moved in over an hour, just klacked away at his keyboard. 

“Why don’t you take a break,  _ mon cheri? _ ” 

Autor flicked his eyes over the rim of his glasses. “What purpose would that serve?” 

Femio stood up and began stretching. “It would loosen your back muscles and relax your spine. Plus sitting in front of a computer for too long is bad for your eyes.” He winked. “And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to socialize, would it?” 

Autor rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Do I strike you as the kind of person that enjoys socializing?” 

Femio grinned. “Of course not, you’re quite anti-social, which allows for great thought. However, you are the heir of this operation, correct? You ought to interact pleasantly with your employees. They may think ill of you otherwise.” 

Autor crossed his arms. “Why should I care what they think? Employees rotate out of here all the time. Besides, people are tedious.” 

“But not  _ moi?” _ Femio replied, leaning across the desk. 

Autor stared at him pointedly. “Especially you.” 

Femio feigned hurt. “ _ Mon cheri _ , you cut me deep.” 

Autor’s lip quirked, but he returned to his work without another word. Femio watched him for a moment, wondering what he looked like when he smiled, truly smiled. He bet it was glorious. 

Femio retreated to the armchair again. “What about Malen?” 

“What about her?” Autor replied. 

“You get along with her, do you not?” 

Autor sighed, a long and drawn-out sound. “Professionally, yes. She is very good at her job.”

“And? What else do you know about her?” 

“If you’re fishing for flirting material, I can’t help you.” 

Femio chuckled. “I am not interested in wooing her,  _ mon cheri. _ I was merely suggesting that, if you would like to learn to socialize with your employees, she would be a good person to start with. She seems kind.” 

“I socialize with you, isn’t that enough?” 

Femio couldn’t stop his heart from doing tricks. He coughed. “Ah, but you are stuck with me all day. It is only normal that we would learn to interact comfortably. Also…” Femio watched Autor type for a moment. “We are of the same gender,  _ mon cheri _ . Speaking with females is another skill altogether.” 

Autor’s fingers paused. He flexed them and continued on. “I fail to see how.” 

Femio shrugged, shelving the issue for now, and grabbed his magazine. They sat in silence for a while, with only the rhythm of the clacking keyboard to fill the air. Eventually, Autor paused and picked up the phone. 

“Malen, would you bring me a coffee? Thank you.”

Or perhaps his master just needed a moment to think through ideas, Femio thought smiling. 

“Don’t you ever read anything... substantial?” Autor asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. 

“Pardon?” 

“You’ve been sitting there for weeks and I only ever see you with magazines or other forms of light reading. Do you ever read anything more immersive?” 

Femio grinned. “Ah. I do enjoy a romance novel or two on occasion. They can be quite engaging. However, I have a habit of losing myself on the page, and I often forget to take stock of my surroundings. A magazine or other ‘light reading’ as you call it, allows me to do my job, and keep myself from dying of boredom.” 

“Somehow I’m not surprised that you enjoy romance novels,” Autor replied flatly. 

“Who doesn’t enjoy a good romance once in a while?” 

Autor stared at him silently. 

A knock sounded on the door and Malen walked in balancing two mugs on a small tray. She set one in front of Autor, who nodded at her and turned back to his computer. The other she brought over to Femio. As she rose, she tucked a short lock of mint-colored hair behind her ear. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.

“We are fine,  _ mon amie _ . Thank you,” Femio replied, smiling politely and standing to walk her out of the office. “Go continue your work. I’ll try to keep him from bothering you.” 

Autor snorted. 

#

As they were leaving for the day, Autor’s phone buzzed. It was a message from his father. 

_ Your cousins will be joining us for dinner tonight. _

_ Have you explained the bodyguard to them? _

_ Nope. :D Just tell them that Mr. Rosenberg is your friend. _

Autor groaned and rolled his eyes. Just what he needed. 

Femio opened the car door for Autor. “After you,  _ mon cheri _ .”

As Lysander pulled away from the office, Femio crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee. “So, tell me about your cousins.” 

Autor sighed, a long and beleaguered sound. “My father told you.” 

“Of course. So~ What are their names?” 

Autor sat quietly for a moment. He wondered if he could get away with going somewhere else until dinner was over. A quick order to Lysander and they would be off to a bookstore, or a restaurant, or, hell, even the beach. Anything would be better than dealing with his cousins. 

_ Then again _ , he thought, glancing at Femio who was sitting patiently and swinging his foot.  _ He would really drive Fakir crazy.  _

Autor relaxed, grinning at his bodyguard. “Fakir and Lohengrin. They are my Aunt Raetsel’s sons,” he began. 

#

A young man with light brown hair and a copper complexion greeted them at the door. He was a good head taller than Autor and had no issue wrapping his arms around the youth and lifting him off the ground. Femio tensed automatically when his charge was grabbed. 

“Autor!” he shouted. “It has been a while. How have you been?” 

“Suffocated,” Autor replied quietly. He glared at his cousin. “Put me down, Lohen.” 

“Sorry about that. There you go.”

Femio strutted to Autor’s side and patted his back. He seemed fine, just annoyed. “Are you going to introduce us?” 

“Femio, this is my cousin Lohengrin.”

Femio stretched out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you.” 

Lohengrin shook his hand firmly. “I didn’t realize Autor was bringing a friend to dinner.” 

Something deep inside of Femio purred. He liked being called Autor’s friend, even if it wasn’t the truth. It also didn’t hurt that the words came out of the mouth of a handsome man. 

“Did you not bring Tutu this time?” Autor said. 

Lohengrin’s eyes began to sparkle. “She couldn’t come, she has an audition tomorrow, so she’s spending today practicing.” 

Autor began walking down the hallway. “She is a talented dancer, I’m sure she’ll get whatever part she desires.” 

Lohengrin smacked his cousin on the arm. “That’s what I told her, but you know how she is.” 

Autor nodded. “Indeed. She has a habit of getting lost in her head.” 

“Is she your girlfriend?” Femio asked, taking his place beside Autor. 

“Fiancee, actually,” Lohengrin responded. “Our wedding’s in April.” 

Femio grinned broadly. “Congratulations.” 

They turned into the dining room. The Chairman was already there and talking to a young man with long evergreen hair and a similar complexion to Lohengrin. Femio guessed that he was the younger brother, Fakir. 

“Oh, there you are,” the Chairman said, rising from his seat. “Fakir, this is Femio, Autor’s friend.” 

Fakir leveled a set of broody green eyes on Femio. “I didn’t realize Autor had any friends,” he replied coldly, sitting back down. 

Autor sat across from him. “I could say the same about you,” he replied, ice lacing his words. 

“Oh, dear,” Lohengrin said. “There’s no need for you two to fight.” 

Femio propped his chin on his arm. “Well you know what they say, when people are too similar they have a harder time getting along.” 

“You don’t know anything,” Fakir snapped. 

“Perhaps not, but I’m sure it’s just coincidence that you are insulting each other the same way. Save the freezer talk for someone who deserves it,  _ mon cheri _ .” Femio replied, winking at Fakir. 

A visible shudder ran down Fakir’s spine and Autor chuckled quietly. 

“Well, ah, shall we eat?” the Chairman suggested. 

As Autor predicted, dinner was delicious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Sorry this chapter was a little later than normal, I got bitten by the writing bug for another story. :) 
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a kudos or a comment, it helps keep the juices flowing. 
> 
> Happy Reading!


	5. A Plan

A short, balding man sat behind a large oak table, hands clasped in front of his mouth. He stared intensely at the candle on his desk as he waited for the phone to ring. He liked candles, they smelled nice and had a warm glow that was pleasant to work by. This particular candle he made himself. 

_Ring ring._

The man picked the phone up off the reciever. “Good evening, how may I be of service? Ah, Mr. Corbin, I’ve been expecting your call.” 

“Then you should already have the answer to my question, Bookman.” The voice on the line was smooth as butter but tense enough to set even the most amicable person on edge. 

“The employees in question have been taken care of, they shan’t be a bother again. As for the recipient of the book, we are discussing ways to remove him from the situation now.” 

Mr. Corbin sighed deeply. “Keep the brat alive. I still need him.” 

‘’Of course, sir. Any other requests.” 

“Let me know when you kidnap him. I’ll search his office myself.” 

“As you wish.”

The line went dead. 

#

“Hello, Mr. Bookman, how are you today?” The girl answered the phone with a typical happy cadence. 

“There’s been a change of plans, Crowned Imp. The contractor would like the target to remain alive. Would you be a dear and kidnap him for us?” 

“Of course! It sounds delightful. Just imagining trussing him up has shivers going down my spine. What about his bodyguard?”

“Ah, yes. Go ahead and kidnap him too. It wouldn’t do for him to come chasing us and ruin the fun.” 

“Oh, this will be a blast!” the girl squeaked. “He looks so cute when he's unconscious. And this will be a lot more fun than just shooting them.”

“Just do me a favor, my dear, when you bring them to the safe house, make sure they are put in different rooms. I don’t want them to hatch any plans. It would be quite annoying.” 

“Absolutely, Mr. Bookman,” she replied. The energy in her voice kept ramping up, as if she couldn’t wait to get started. “So, when should I get them?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

“Lovely,” she sighs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I always wanted it to be a short bridge chapter. I figured I ought to start writing about the plot now and introducing more tension and whatnot. :D 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope that if you've gotten this far you are really enjoying it. I really appreciate all the comments and kudos I get, you really have no idea. 
> 
> Happy Reading!!!


	6. Sick Day

The keys clicked rhythmically in the quiet room. Autor rolled his shoulders and stretched his back. He looked at the clock and realized he’d been working for three hours straight. HIs mind felt like it was full of cotton and his ears were ringing. 

_ How about a break, mon cheri?  _

Autor shook his head, banishing the voice. This was the first day in weeks that he had been free of his bodyguard; granted, it was because Femio was quite ill. Because of their ruse, however, it wasn’t like Autor could get a substitute to go to work with him, so Autor was encouraged to work from home. An arrangement he was quite happy with. 

But the voice in his head had a point, he could use a walk and a cup of coffee. His trip to the kitchen went smoothly, though he caught himself humming absentmindedly a few times. When he returned to his room, he set his coffee down and started rummaging in his closet. 

He pulled out a stuffed blue peacock he’d received for Christmas last year and set it on his couch. He pulled a random book off his shelf and set it on his lap, then he got out his phone and found a white noise generator. He set the phone on the peacock and went back to work. 

#

“ _ Mon cheri,  _ are you awake?” Femio called, knocking lightly on Autor’s door. His throat was still a little hoarse and he had a slight headache, but he was ready to get back to work. Yesterday had been like a summer without sunshine, a miserable wet ordeal with only his father for company. He missed his Adonis. 

Femio opened the door quietly and heard the water running in the bathroom. Autor must be getting a shower. Femio coughed lightly and sat down on the couch, noticing a stuffed animal on the other end. The more he looked at it, the more amused he became. 

It was in a similar place to where he would have sat, had he been here yesterday while Autor was working, and it had a book open on his lap. Femio giggled as the door opened behind him. 

“Oh, you’re here,” Autor said. He was wrapped in a warm navy robe, though it didn’t cover all of his glistening chest, and his blue hair was still dripping. 

Femio attempted to swallow, but found his throat completely dry. “I— ahem— yes,” he croaked, voice cracking. 

Autor cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were better.” 

“I am,” Femio replied, averting his eyes. “I suggest you hurry up and dress. We don’t want to be late.” 

Autor nodded quietly and stepped into his closet. Femio heard him shuffling and fought his imagination, eventually taking the book from the peacock. “ _ Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation _ that seems like a strange title for a book. It doesn’t even look that old.” 

“That’s because it isn’t,” Autor responded, emerging from the dressing room with a loose collar and cuffs. He grabbed a black tie from his drawer and began tying it around his maroon Neiman Marcus dress shirt. 

Femio grinned. “Branching out, I see.” 

“I don’t always read classics, you know.” 

“If you say so,” Femio replied. He picked up the peacock and gave it a squeeze. “Did you miss me yesterday,  _ mon cheri _ ?” 

Autor’s hands paused as he tied the final loop. “Of course not. I quite enjoyed the silence and solitude, if you must know.” 

Femio feigned hurt, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “ _ Mon coeur!”  _ he exclaimed. 

Autor grabbed a pair of onyx cufflinks and put them on, carefully angling himself away from Femio and his antics. If Femio didn’t know better, he’d think his master’s ears were red. 

“That’s enough,” Autor said. “Go tell Lysander to get the car ready. I’ll be down in a moment.” 

“As you wish,  _ mon cheri _ ,” Femio replied, setting the peacock back in his place of honor. 

#

“Did you get a lot of work done?” Femio asked once they were in the car. 

“Yes,” Autor replied, tapping on his phone. 

“I’m glad. You weren’t bored stuck in the house, were you?” 

“No.” 

“I didn’t take you for someone who owned a stuffed animal.” 

“I usually don’t. It was a gift.” 

“Oh?” Femio replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “From who?” 

“My aunt and uncle.” 

“How sweet.” 

Autor rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” 

Arriving at the office and leaving the car was a rather quiet affair. Femio usually got out first and looked around, just in case there was another shooter. There hadn’t been once since that first day, but it never hurt to be cautious. 

He tapped on the hood of the car, a signal of safety. “You’re so slow,  _ mon cheri _ ,” he said. 

Autor grunted as he got out of the car. Upon arriving in Autor’s office, Malen trotted in with a tray. She set a cup of coffee on Autor’s desk and handed a mug of herbal tea. 

“Thank you,  _ mon amie _ .”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Rosenberg,” Malen replied before leaving. 

“So,” Femio asked, warming his hands on the mug. “How do you think Miss Malen found out I was sick yesterday?” 

Autor grunted noncommittally and typed on his keyboard. 

Femio grinned and sipped his tea. It smelled divine and tasted like chamomile with a hint of honey. “Of course you wouldn’t know, how silly of me.” 

#

The Crowned Imp fluffed her curls and added another layer of gloss to her lips. She’d been observing her mark for a few days and found that his routine was fairly predictable. Go to work, go home, no funny business. He probably didn’t even know what fun was, how charming~ 

She smoothed her skirt and approached the driver, who was busy checking something under the hood of the car. 

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice sweet as silk. “My car broke down not far from here and I can’t get a hold of a mechanic.”

The driver grunted. “Where are you parked?” he asked. 

“Just this way,” she replied, leading the way. Oh this was just too easy, like stealing candy from a baby. Sure enough, as soon as they got away from the building, he was easy to knock out, even with his hefty size, and simple enough to hide. 

Finding a place to change into her dupe uniform was another situation entirely. She ended up in a fast food restaurant and had just enough time to ensure the car was working properly and cleaned before the mark and his bodyguard left the building. 

“Where’s Lysander?” the mark asked. 

She smiled politely. “Hello, my name is Lillie. Lysander was feeling a little sick and asked if I could cover for him. I hope you don’t mind.” 

The mark glanced at his guard and sighed. “Very well. Can’t be helped. Take us back to the mansion.” 

“Yes, sir!” 

While she was driving, Lillie took small sips out of a thermos in the cupholder and listened to the two men in the backseat. They spoke to each other easily and occasionally harshly. If she hadn’t done her research, she would never have guessed that the burgundy-haired one was a very well-trained bodyguard. Ahh… If only she had the chance to tussle with him, that would be fun. 

Eventually, she pulled out another canister and pulled the tab on it. A translucent gas began to leak out and fill the car. She watched through the rearview mirror as their eyes grew heavy and their breathing slowed. 

“What… are you… doing?” the bodyguard asked, limply reaching forward, but at this point he was too weak to grab her. 

“I’m driving,” she chirped. “And you are passing out. Nighty night.” 

As soon as she was sure that they were thoroughly unconscious, she cracked the window and turned the car around. She still had a lot of work to do. 

“La la la… la la… la la,” she hummed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I like writing it! Please don't forget that I thrive on kudos and comments. 
> 
> I hope you all are staying safe and healthy. Have a good day!!!
> 
> Happy Reading.


	7. Cracks a Noble Heart

A shiver ran down Autor’s spine. He sat up and noticed that the room was dark, but it was not his room. It smelled of ash and nicotine, like someone had used it as a giant ashtray recently. His head was pounding as his eyes flitted around the room, searching for a window or the door. No windows, and the door was bolted from the outside. 

_ A kidnapping _ , he concluded. He looked for a light, but when he found one the light was so dim and flickered so much that it was better to leave it off. But he found out what he needed to know, he was alone. 

“Well fuck,” he said. 

#

Femio hoped that their captors were treating Autor a lot better than they were treating him. He was woken by a bucket of cold water to the face only to discover that he was tightly strapped to a chair and left alone in a dank room to ruminate. A pretty basic tactic, he had to admit. 

It had to be the driver. He should have been more aware. Goddamnit. 

Femio shook the chair but it didn’t budge. 

“Well,” he said to the empty air. “This isn’t ideal.” 

#

“Hello, Mr. Corbin. Yes, I have the boys here. Any particular requests for them?” 

“Keep them occupied,” he replied, voice soft as silk. “But don’t kill the brat. As for the bodyguard… I encourage you to use your imagination.” 

Bookman grinned widely. “Of course, sir.” 

“I’ll let you know once I have the ledger, then you can let them go. That said, I understand that you may want to hedge your bets and ransom them, but Mr. Scrivener deals with kidnappers quickly and efficiently. No previous attempt has ever gone well for the kidnappers.” 

“Thank you for your advice, Mr. Corbin. I will keep that in mind.”

“Of course, they can’t be released completely unscathed,” he responded. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” 

The call ended unceremoniously and Bookman rose from his seat. The rich brat was off limits, at least for now, and his boys were itching for a little action. But he needed a good excuse to send them after the bodyguard instead of the mark. 

“Junior,” he called. A burly man with a thick beard came in. “Move the bodyguard within hearing distance of the mark, then have some fun with him.”

Junior grinned wickedly. “Yes, sir.” 

As his underling left, Bookman rose and wandered over to the brat’s holding cell. He pushed open a slit in the door. “Greetings,” he said. 

“Are you here to explain why I’ve been taken?” he replied coldly. He glanced at Bookman over the rim of his glasses. 

Bookman snorted. “Of course not, though, the answer should be easy enough to figure out.” 

“My father doesn’t negotiate with kidnappers.” His glare was downright icy. 

Bookman grinned. This was going to be more fun than he had hoped. “I expect your father has only just realized you’re gone. And that is plenty of time to play with your little friend to my heart’s content.” 

The captive shot up and banged his fists against the door. “You won’t touch him,” he threatened. 

“Oh, it’s far too late for that.” 

“AAARRGGGH!” the cry cut through the compound. 

_ Perfect timing, _ thought Bookman. 

“Who is that?” the brat replied, banging on the door. 

Bookman waved as he closed the door and walked away, heels clicking on the stone floor. 

#

Autor was left in complete darkness. He battered at the iron door until the bruises on his arms and legs felt like they were about to burst. With every charge the door rattled, but not loud enough to drown out the unmistakable sound of Femio’s cries elsewhere in the compound. Autor’s chest felt heavy. His throat was thick, breathing was hard. 

Autor held his head between his hands and covered his ears, not that it helped. He rocked back and forth on the cell’s thin mattress. Femio’s screams echoed down the hallway, one after another, reverberating through Autor’s skull. As much as he hated it, Autor dreaded what it would mean when the screams stopped. 

Hours seemed to pass while Autor sat scrunched on the floor. Eventually, the screams faded to silence. Autor could hear the pounding of his heart and feel the air rushing through his lungs. 

He closed his eyes.  _ Please _ , he pleaded. Who he was pleading to, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help himself.  _ Please let him be alive. _

The thud of thick-soled boots on stone echoed in the hallway. The handle to Autor’s cell rattled. The door opened and Bookman stood between two burly meatheads. He flicked his wrists and one of them approached Autor and, despite his best struggles, trussed up his arms and pushed him out the door. 

“What did you do to him?” Autor demanded. 

Bookman grinned viciously, but did not answer. 

Autor was pushed into a traditional cell with iron bars and straw strewn across the floor. One of the henchmen cut Autor loose while another set a tray with bread and water inside. They efficiently exited and bolted the door behind them. Autor crashed against the bars. 

Autor growled, glaring at his captor. If he could get his hands around that thick neck, he was sure he’d be able to strangle the chuckling menace. 

“Goodnight, sweet prince,” Bookman replied, disappearing into the compound. 

Autor rattled the door to no avail. 

“Fuck,” he exclaimed. He slid down the bars and sat on the straw. At least it looked fresh. 

He bit his lip and looked around. They hadn’t left any light this time either. Seemed like they were rather stingy with the comfort items. He sighed. 

“Geeeeeehhhhhh,” someone groaned. 

He wasn’t alone. 

Autor began crawling, using his hands to feel for the other person. The cell wasn’t very large, so it didn’t take him long. As soon as Autor’s hand touched the other person, he groaned. 

A hand, arm, shoulder, face, hair. It was curly. 

“Femio?” Autor whispered. Dammit he wanted light. 

Lightly, he probed with his fingers. Femio’s skin was tender and bulged by his eyes and jaw. His arms were covered with cuts, and he thought his fingers were dislocated, but he wasn’t positive. He was certain that his bodyguard had been beaten within an inch of his life. 

Autor’s jaw locked. 

He sat down by Femio’s head and pulled him up. His skinny legs probably wouldn’t do much to aleve the pain, but at least it was better than leaving him on the hard ground. Absentmindedly, he played with Femio’s burgundy hair while he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was really hard for me because it made me very sad, but it had to happen. Thank you so much for reading. I look forward to any and all kudos and comments I receive, as they will likely be the balm that heals my poor heart.


	8. Secretary Badass

“Excuse me.” 

Malen looked up from her computer screen to see a beautiful young man with golden eyes and snow-white hair. He smiled at her gently. Her heart did a little skip.

“Y-yes?” she replied. 

“I’m looking for Mr. Scrivener, is he in?” 

“Do you have an appointment?” she replied, flicking her eyes back to the screen and pulling up the schedule. Truth be told, she was quite worried about her boss. He is normally punctual to the point of irritation, but he hadn’t arrived yet, and he hadn’t messaged her about rescheduling his day or sending documents to him at the mansion. She blinked away a tense tear and waited for the stranger’s reply. 

“Unfortunately not. Autor and I are old school friends,” he said. “My name is Mytho. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Malen resisted the urge to cock her eyebrow. Mr. Scrivener didn’t have many friends, and definitely none that were likely to come out of the woodwork. 

“I see,” she said. “Well, Mr. Scrivener is busy with meetings all day and has no time for a social visit.” 

“That’s a shame,” Mytho replied, frowning. “I’ll come back another day.” 

Malen smiled politely. “Have a good afternoon, Mr. Mytho.” 

#

Mytho sat in his car and took a deep breath. What did he learn? The book was likely inside the office, the door looked simple, no lock, and the windows were covered. The secretary was careful. The office was high, no surprise there, and security was pretty tight. This was going to be an… interesting job. 

His phone vibrated. 

“Hello?” he answered. 

“What’s your progress?” his boss replied. He sounded tense. 

“I checked out the office, didn’t get in though. Why don’t you just walk downstairs and get it?” Mytho asked. 

“We don’t have much longer. According to my sources, Mr. Scrivener is working on a plan to find and retrieve his son. It will be a day or two at most,” Mr. Corbin replied, ignoring Mytho’s question. 

“Yeah yeah. I’ll get it tonight, no problem.” 

“Good.” 

The line died. 

“You could say goodbye or something,” Mytho huffed, pulling away. He needed a coffee and a chat with his favorite person in the world. 

# 

Light filtered through a small window near the ceiling, couldn’t have been larger than a shoebox, but it was plenty to rouse Femio. His eyes fluttered open slowly, the right one was nearly swollen shut and the left one felt itchy. What he saw nearly caused him to swoon.

Autor was hovering above him, eyes closed and arms crossed lazily. His head bobbed slightly, where the sun filtered through his hair to cast a beautiful glow on Autor’s face. Femio shifted his head and noticed that he was laying on Autor’s legs. He grinned. 

“ _ Mon coeur _ ,” he whispered, raising a hand, intending to graze his fingertips across his cheek, but stopped when he saw the blood and bruises. Femio sighed and laid his hands on his stomach, content to watch Autor for a while longer. 

Femio didn’t get to enjoy the view for long. Autor stirred quietly and looked down at Femio with careful eyes. 

“You’re awake,” he said. 

“And ready to begin the day,” Femio replied, chuckling. The act quickly turned into a coughing fit. Autor turned him on his side, facing away, until the attack subsided. 

“You need to be more careful,” Autor said once he’d readjusted them. 

Femio frowned. “I’m sorry.” 

Autor waved the words away. “Don’t be. You couldn’t have guarded against this. I’ve thought about it for hours, it had to be that driver, Lillie. Best guess, she drugged us with an inhalant. How are you feeling?” 

“Like an over-inflated balloon,” Femio replied.

“Did they break anything?” 

“A few fingers, probably some ribs, nothing spectacular.” 

“Stop,” Autor commanded. 

“Stop what?” 

“Stop treating this lightly.”

Femio paused. That wasn’t his intention. “I’m not,” he replied. “But there’s nothing we can do right now. I doubt I could sit up even if I wanted to, there’s nothing we can do about the injuries right now, unless you have a first aid kit hidden behind your ear, so we wait. Either they are going to come in here and finish the job, or your father is going to find us and get us out. Life and death are the only options,  _ mon amie _ .” 

“So it’s gallow’s humor?” Autor said. 

Femio patted reached over and grabbed Autor’s hand. He patted it softly. “Aye, of a sort.” 

Autor chuffed and looked up at the window. Before Femio knew it, his charge was deep in thought and smiled. He felt a gentle tugging on his scalp and froze, heart beating faster than a jackhammer. Autor was… playing with his hair? He thought Autor would realize what he was doing and stop, but the longer he waited, the more he began to relax. 

_ This doesn’t feel so bad _ , Femio decided, drifting off. Although, he could have sworn that he saw Autor grin just before he finally passed out. 

#

_ The secretary was dedicated to her job, that’s for sure _ , Mytho thought as he hunkered down behind a filing cabinet. His white hair was tucked under a black cap and he had disguised his features with a pair of large sunglasses and a mask. He wanted to get in and out of the office because even he knew that he looked suspicious as hell. 

The secretary stretched and rolled her chair back. As she stood up, Mytho readied. She rolled her neck and walked away from her desk, empty mug in hand. 

Mytho dashed forward, quiet as a mouse, and entered the office. He only had a few minutes, so he started with the desk. He opened every drawer, rooted through the cabinets, even overturned the cushions, but he couldn’t find a single sheet of paper. 

“Dammit,” he hissed. His boss was not going to like this. The files could be anywhere. 

The secretaries heels clicked on the floor outside. 

He was out of time. 

Mytho slipped through the door and was down the hall before the secretary could even turn the corner. 

#

Malen checked her watch and clicked. It took him long enough. As if she couldn’t spot a half-baked thief from a mile away.  She took a sip of her Earl Grey tea and sat in her chair. 

It was a good thing she had cleaned Autor’s office out earlier, who knows what he was trying to get his hands on. She picked up the phone and dialed the Chairman’s number. 

“Hello, Malen, why are you calling so late?” he answered. His voice was pleasant, but in a strange way, like he was pretending to be normal. 

“Good evening, Mr. Scrivener, sorry to call you this late. I just thought you should know that someone just tried to break into Mr. Autor’s office.” 

The Chairman paused. “Continue,” he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Hope you liked this chapter. 
> 
> Happy Reading!!!


	9. Safe House

Autor felt the sun shining on his cheeks and through his eyelids before he was fully awake. He bolted upright, heart thudding and arms patting the space around him. He was surrounded by gravel and tufts of grass. To his side, he saw a wall of greenery. His glasses had fallen by his knees, and once he had them on, his head swiveled, looking for his companion. 

He found Femio a few feet away, splayed out on the edge of a backroad and half in the ditch. Autor scrambled over, ripping his pant leg on a sharp rock. He rolled Femio onto his back and checked his pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the steady  _ thump thump _ beneath his fingers. 

“Where are we?” he muttered to himself. “And why?” 

He leaned back and stared at the field of grass around them while he thought. Yesterday they were locked up in a cell. He was certain that they were going to be tortured and killed, then dumped somewhere for his father to find. Not… released in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason. 

“So… why were we kidnapped?” he continued quietly. 

Suddenly, the sound of a vehicle rattling echoed down the road. Autor rose and watched as a bright red pickup truck stopped in front of him and a young woman with braided ginger hair hopped out. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Can I give you a ride?” 

Autor sized her up. She was a good head and a half shorter than him and thinly built. She seemed harmless, and he didn’t have much of a choice. 

“We would appreciate it,” he said. He bent down and hoisted Femio up onto his back and carried him to the truck. “Would you take us to the nearest medical facility?” 

The girl’s eyes gaped at Femio’s injuries. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, jumping into the driver’s seat and revving the engine. 

“My cousin is a doctor and she’s close by, would that be okay?” she asked. 

Autor nodded and the girl sped down the street. Autor was quite sure she was breaking the speed limit. 

“I’m Ahiru, by the way,” she said. 

Autor toyed with the idea of giving her a fake name for a moment, but decided against it. He introduced himself and Femio and held on tight while she turned a sharp corner. The wheels lifted up, he was positive. He kept a firm grip on Femio’s shirt, trying to keep him steady. 

It wasn’t long before Ahiru pulled into a long driveway and approached an old farmhouse. She honked the horn a few times. They stopped by a side door and Ahiru jumped out to help Autor get Femio inside. 

A woman ran around the side of the house. Her hair was the same color as Ahiru’s, though it was cut in a bob and bleached at the tips. “Ahiru, what’s wrong?” she said. “Who are they?” 

“Tutu, he’s injured, badly,” she replied, propping open the door and leading Autor inside. She brought them through a kitchen and dining area, then down a short hallway and into a small guest room. Her cousin disappeared for a moment, and Autor heard her rifling through something upstairs. 

Carefully, Autor set Femio on the bed. A few minutes later, Tutu entered the room holding a dark bag and sat by Femio. She took his pulse as she calmly asked Autor a few questions about his condition, then she shooed both of them out. 

“So,” Ahiru said, “Let’s get you something to drink. I have coffee, or tea if that’s your preference.”

“Coffee please,” Autor responded. As he followed Ahiru back through the house, he looked at the pictures lining the walls. One of Ahiru, he presumed, as a young girl with an older man and woman. Another with Tutu holding a diploma and wearing silver and green cords over a simple black gown. But one made him stop, it was of Tutu, arms draped loosely over the shoulders of a tall man that Autor knew quite well, Lohengrin.

Ahiru appeared around the corner with a steaming cup in hand. 

“Is this your cousin’s boyfriend?” he asked, pointing. 

“Yeah. His name is Lohengrin and he’s super nice. His younger brother is a pain in the ass though.” 

Autor smirked and forced himself to drink the coffee. It tasted fine, but he wasn’t in the mood for drinking. 

He stared at the picture and his wheels began to turn as his stomach continued to churn. 

#

Karon paced back and forth in his office and ran his hands through his silver hair. He glanced at the growing pile of paperwork on his desk. He hadn’t done any work since his son had gone missing, and the police were about as useful as rabbits against wolves. They were probably in the pockets of the men who kidnapped Autor and Femio. 

He wrung his hands and went to stand by the window. Autor’s secretary told him some interesting news about an attempted theft. Thankfully, she had the foresight to take all of Autor’s work from his office and store it elsewhere. Karon would have to make sure she got a raise. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. 

“Mr. Scrivener,” Rue said quietly, poking her head in. “Your nephew is here to see you.” 

“Thank you, Rue. Let him in.” 

Lohengrin entered, a careful smile plastered on his face. “Uncle!” he greeted him warmly and wrapped him in a warm embrace. Karon’s breath hitched. He hadn’t realized how much he needed the hug. 

Lohen backed away and looked around the room briefly. “I have some important news for you, shall we take a walk in the garden?” 

Karon nodded and led the way outside. Lohen steered them near the hedge maze and deep into the heart of it before he lost the plastic grin. 

“Uncle,” he said, sitting Karon down on a stone bench. “I know where Autor is.” 

Karon’s breath escaped him and his heart faltered. “Is he…?” 

“He’s safe. He found a friend of mine and is staying with her for now. It was lucky that they found her actually, his friend Femio was hurt pretty bad. Uncle, listen. Autor has no idea why he was kidnapped, or what they hoped to achieve, or why they let him go, so he’s going to stay hidden for now.”

“Why didn’t he call and tell me himself?” Karon asked. 

“He’s worried that the phones may be tapped, and he insisted that I come and see you personally.” 

Karon nodded. “He’s always been extra careful. What does he need from me?”

Lohengrin grinned. “You two really are cut from the same cloth, aren’t you? He wants you to carry on like normal; do your work, go to meetings, build a shelf, that sort of thing. And tell everyone that he’s gone on vacation or something.” 

“Okay. I can do that. Thank you, Lohen,” Karon said, smiling softly. “Keep me informed, please.” 

Lohengrin placed his hand over Karon’s and patted it. “You’re welcome, Uncle. Now, let’s get back to the house before it gets cold.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I post this, Ahirue Week is entering the last few days and I have loved seeing all of the art that has been going up. Please go and check it out on Tumblr! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	10. Good Morning

When Femio opened his eyes, he was surprised to discover that he wasn’t in the cell he fell asleep in. The room was cozy, the walls painted a soft blue and the furniture was a dark wood color. And the pain, that which had prevented him from moving and likely kept him asleep this whole time, was a dull throb. 

“You’re awake.” Autor leaned over and placed a hand on Femio’s forehead. His dark hair was tousled and his eyes were tired, like he had been staring at the computer for too long. “The fever is gone. I’ll be right back, don’t try to move.” 

Femio groaned, but Autor bolted out the door. When he returned, a woman was with him, a tall ginger with big blue eyes. She pulled a stethoscope off of the dresser and pressed it firmly to his chest. 

“Femio, this is Tutu. She’s a doctor and has been taking care of you.” 

Femio nodded. His throat was tight, parched. He coughed. 

“Autor, would you go and get the water bottle in the fridge for me? The one with the straw?” 

He nodded and stepped out. 

Tutu looked down and smiled. “I’m so glad you woke up. I was getting worried because I don’t have a drip here and Autor won’t let me check you into a hospital. He’s worried about… well I think he’s worried about the people who took you. He has been extra cautious.”

Femio tried to smile. He had so many questions for his charge, but the knowledge that he was being careful settled over him like a warm blanket. As long as Autor was thinking, then they would be fine. Besides, he was glad to have somewhere safe to heal up. 

“Oh! You’re awake!” a girl’s voice echoed from the hall. A young woman with bright red hair tied in a braid bounded into the room and hovered over the doctor. “I’m Ahiru. Nice to meet you.” 

“You’re crowding him,” Autor replied, striding into the room and sitting next to Femio. He propped the straw near Femio’s lips. Grateful, Femio clamped down and took a few good gulps. He wanted more, but he knew he had to take it slowly. 

He cleared his throat. “Thank you,  _ mon cheri. _ And thank you, doctor, I’m feeling much better.” 

“Glad to hear that,” Tutu responded, rising from her seat beside the bed. She jotted some things down in a notebook. “Can you tell me if you feel any pain?” 

He answered and they continued with a basic interview. It only took a few minutes and in the end Tutu patted Autor on the back and took Ahiru with her into the hallway. 

“What happened,  _ mon cheri? _ ” Femio asked once they were alone. 

Autor pressed the straw to his mouth and began describing falling asleep in the cell, then waking in a field a few miles from here. Ahiru’s discovery and Tutu’s quick thinking. 

“She said that it was lucky that she was here. You were in pretty bad shape, but you should make an almost-full recovery.” 

Femio cocked an eyebrow at that, but Autor continued detailing his discovery of Lohengrin’s relationship with Tutu, and his request that Tutu pass along a message for him. By now their fathers knew that they were safe, but weren’t able to come home. 

“I still don’t know why we were kidnapped, or for what reason we were dropped in the middle of nowhere.” Autor frowned, uneasy. “I have too many questions and not enough information. Father told Lohen that someone tried to break into my office the day before we were released, and that Malen cleared it out beforehand. I’ve asked Lohen to get her here.” 

“Malen is a smart girl,” Femio remarked. “If anyone can help you figure out what’s been going on, it’s her.” 

Autor leaned back and grinned. “I’ve known Malen since university, and if I’m sure of anything, it’s that she is full of surprises.” 

For some stupid reason, the knowledge that Malen knew Autor as a student panged Femio’s heart. It was like she knew a side of him that he never would. Which was stupid. Because he was Autor’s bodyguard. Nothing else. Nothing. Else. 

Femio yawned and blinked heavily. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Autor replied, setting the cup down on the nightstand. “If you need me, call, okay?” 

“Okay,  _ mon cheri _ . Goodnight.” 

#

Malen glanced at the clock in the corner of her computer. Mr. Scrivener had messaged her earlier telling her to expect a visitor before her shift ended, which was in twenty minutes. Whoever it was was cutting it rather close. She frowned and continued to write her report. Ever since Autor had gone missing, she had done her due diligence by doing as much of his work as she could, on top of fielding phone interviews and other secretarial nonsense. She would be quite glad when he returned. 

A hand knocked on her desk and Malen looked up to find a handsome young man with curly brown hair and a happy smile standing before her. She gulped. 

“Are you Malen?” he asked. 

“Y-yes. How may I help you?” 

“I’m Lohengrin, Karon Scrivener’s nephew. I’m here to pick you up.” 

“Huh?” she managed. She thought her visitor was here for a meeting, not a ride. 

“Karon asked me to pick you up? He said he talked to you about it earlier?” The man tilted his head slightly and frowned. 

_ He’s too cute for his own good _ , Malen decided. 

She nodded. “Yes. Of course. Just let me finish up and we can get going.”

He smiled in an easy-going manner and settled into one of the chairs that lined the hall to wait. She finished the paragraph she had been writing and jotted some notes on what she still had to do, then powered off her computer and gathered her things. 

“Shall we go?” she asked. 

Lohengrin nodded and led her out to a simple silver sedan that was parked in the garage. Not quite what she expected of the Chairman’s nephew, but okay. She mentally shrugged and settled into the passenger seat. 

“So, where are you taking me?” 

“I know where Autor is and he asked to see you. Do you have anything you want to pick up before we go?” 

Malen’s heart nearly stopped. “Autor’s safe?” 

“Yes. I’m sure he’ll explain the situation to you when we get there, but he’s safe and uninjured.” 

Malen breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” She took a deep breath, sure that she would have more emotions when she finally saw her friend again. “Can you take me to my apartment then? I have some documents I think he’d like to see.” 

# 

Across town, a fire burned, engulfing an old manor that had once housed a perfectly legitimate accounting business. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so thankful that I was able to get a chapter out this week. For some reason my brain just did not want to cooperate over the weekend. 
> 
> If you liked the fic, please leave a kudos and/or a comment and I will see you soon. :D


	11. Taking Account

Malen nearly shot out of the car and into the little farm house as fast as her sensible heels could carry her. Lohen was a step ahead of her and opened the door, leading the way.

"He's probably in here," Lohen said, stopping and gesturing to a closed door. 

Malen gripped the handle and opened it slowly. Inside, she saw Autor sitting in an armchair, reading aloud, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like the world hadn't been upended and twisted beyond recognition. Malen pressed her hand to her mouth as pressure welled in her chest. He was okay. 

Her eyes slid across the room and spotted Femio, who was usually happy and sociable, laying on the bed, bruised and covered in bandages. The realization caused her to gasp. His violet eyes fluttered open and he smiled weakly at her. 

Autor looked up, and upon seeing Malen, set his book aside and stood up. He approached slowly and put a hand on her shoulder. He smiled softly, a quiet thank you.

She took a deep breath, restricting her initial reaction to start crying and clenched her fist. She swung a good punch at Autor's shoulder, barely tapping him. "Scare me like that again and I'm moving to Maryland."

Autor rubbed the spot where she'd hit him. "Of course," he replied, smirking. "Is this going to be before or after my diet choices convince you to move to Connecticut?" 

"Autor, I swear to God," Malen sighed. "I'm glad you're safe." 

Autor's eyes drifted to the bed. "Same here." 

Femio shifted, groaning. Autor took a few quick strides and perched on the bed to help lift him up. Malen’s eyes widened in surprise. Autor was rarely affectionate with his father, let alone his friends. She couldn’t remember a time she’d ever seen such a thing up close.

"Hello,  _ mon amie _ . It's a pleasure to see your face again." 

She grinned. "I'm glad to see you too, Femio. How are you feeling?"

"Little stuff, little sore, nothing to worry about. I have a very good doctor, and a decent nurse, you see." He winked at her. "I can't wait to go home, so you and Autor should begin your investigation." 

Autor nodded and motioned for Malen to sit in the armchair he had vacated as he got comfortable on the floor and leaned against the bed. Once settled, Autor and Malen began, while Femio listened quietly. 

#

Five cups of tea later, Malen and Autor were hunched over the sizable stack of paperwork, slowly but steadily working through it. As they worked, Autor divided the papers they’d gone through into smaller stacks, based on how quickly he would have to deal with it once he returned to work. May as well kill two birds with one stone, he thought. As he was setting a folder on the  _ Do Immediately _ stack, Malen clunked her mug onto the table so hard that the tea inside nearly spilled out. 

“This is it,” she exclaimed, “It has to be.” 

Autor tilted his head as Malen spun the folio around and pointed at a string of numbers. “This is last month’s accounting book; as you requested, I’ve kept myself appraised of the financial situation of the company, and these numbers don’t match up.” 

Autor adjusted his glasses and examined the folio closely. “There’s more than there should be,” he surmised. 

“Someone’s been embezzling,” Malen responded. 

Autor nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But who is it?” 

“Only Corbin has that much power,” Malen replied. “And he would have the resources to hire whoever kidnapped you.” 

Autor sighed. “I need more proof, and my father has to be notified.” 

He stood and wandered into the living room where he found Lohengrin and Tutu curled into each other on the couch and watching a video on his cell phone. Autor cleared his throat and propped his hand on his hip. 

“Lohen, I’m afraid I need you to be a carrier pigeon for a little while longer.” 

His cousin nodded and gestured for him to continue. As Autor explained the situation and what he needed Lohengrin to do, Tutu uncurled from her position on the couch and wandered into Femio’s room. 

#

Rue knocked lightly on the office door. Mr. Scrivener was still inside, he’d been working harder than she’d ever seen before and, while he hadn’t told her about it, she suspected it was because his son was still missing. 

“Yes, Rue?” 

“I am getting ready to leave for the day,” she replied. 

The Chairman nodded. “Okay. Stay safe.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Rue gathered her bag and shrugged into her coat before clicking off her desk lamp and walking swiftly down the hallway. She checked her phone. 

_ Waiting outside _ . 

_ I’m on my way, _ she replied to the text message. She pocketed her phone and increased her pace. She pushed open the front door and saw a young man with snow white hair scrolling through his phone. 

Rue snuck up behind him, lept up, and wrapped her arms over his shoulders. She planted a kiss on his cheek and dropped back to the ground. He turned around and pulled her into a tight hug. 

“How was work?” Mytho asked, grinning. 

“Busy,” she replied. “Let’s get some dinner.” 

Holding hands, they walked down the street to a small restaurant and settled into a booth. They waited until they had a moment alone before they began a discussion in earnest.

“So,” Mytho started, “Has your stepdad found the book he wanted?” 

Rue frowned at him. “I don’t like it when you call him that, just call him by his name. And no. I’m starting to get worried about Autor, he’s been missing for a while.” 

Mytho watched as she absently stirred her drink with a straw. “Have you talked to Corbin recently?” 

She shook her head. “Thankfully there is nothing to say. I just…” Rue trailed off. 

Mytho patted her hand gently. “I know.” 

“I just have to have faith that one day he’ll disappear and leave my mother and I behind, and then we can all start over.” 

Rue dusted her hands across the table, signalling the end of that conversation. “So how is that house you’ve been working on going?” 

“We finished wiring the electrical today, so we’ll be moving on to the next one in the development.” 

Rue nodded and smiled happily, this was all she wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone, sorry it has been so long since I updated. I ran into a bit of writer's block. On the positive side, I have mapped out the rest of the plot, and it's going to wrap up by chapter 13, assuming all goes as planned. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and have a beautiful day!


	12. The Kiss

Autor knocked lightly on the door, taking a deep breath. 

“Come in,” Femio called. 

Breathing out, Autor entered and sat on the bed. His bodyguard was doing much better. The bruising had faded and he didn’t wince as he moved. In fact, he was standing by the window and stretching as Autor came in. 

“ _ Mon cheri _ !” Femio greeted, smiling brightly. His lavender eyes twinkled and he spun around, as if showing off his new clothes, though he was wearing a simple blue tshirt and blue jeans. “What do you think?”

Autor’s throat went try and he coughed lightly. The simple clothes fit him better than he expected. “You look good,” he admitted. “How are you feeling?”

Femio tilted his hand. “A little sore still, and stiff. Nothing a good workout won’t cure.” 

Autor glanced at him. “No exercise yet, doctor’s orders.” 

The bodyguard tutted. “I know, I know. Take it easy, rest when needed and all that.” He sighed. “Though I’ve been feeling rather antsy recently. I’ve never been still this long.” 

“You sit on my couch all day,” he pointed out. 

“That’s work, it’s different. My body may be still, but my senses are still working.” Femio tapped his temple. “But I have nothing to stimulate this magnificent brain here. Aside from when you read to me, of course,” he finished with a grin. 

Autor smirked. He liked it when Femio smiled. He liked a lot of things about his bodyguard, actually. He blinked the thought away quickly and said, “I had Lohen contact your father, he knows you’re safe.” 

Femio stilled and just stared at Autor. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I was worried that he would think I was dead… or something. I was actually just trying to figure out how to call him. I thought I would ask Miss Ahiru to borrow her phone, but Dad doesn’t answer phone numbers he doesn’t recognize.” 

Femio’s voice cracked. 

Autor stood and wrapped his arms around Femio’s shoulders. He was shaking slightly, so Autor squeezed tighter. It was all too much. The kidnapping, the torture, the hiding, the healing, everything. Autor was having a hard time keeping it together, and he wasn’t even the one that got hurt. 

“We’re going to need therapy after this,” he commented dryly. 

Femio chuckled, burying his face in Autor’s shoulder as he hugged him back. “I think we’re going to need a nice long vacation as well.” 

Autor imagined it for a minute. They could go to a small island, rest on the beach, swim in crystal clear blue water. “That sounds nice,” he admitted. 

Femio pulled away abruptly and cleared his throat. “I- ah- I need some water.” 

As Autor watched Femio disappear into the hallway, his heart lurched. He sighed. Nothing in his life could be easy, could it? 

#

“Rue,” the Chairman called. She picked up the receiver and propped it on her shoulder while she grabbed a pen to take notes. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“I need you to gather some documents for me.” As he listed off the financial records he wanted, she paled. Her stepfather… was about to be caught red handed. It was the perfect opportunity. He had kept her under his thumb with threats and physical attacks. She would have left years ago, if she’d had anywhere to go where she knew she’d be safe. But now… she could be free. 

“Yes, sir,” she replied, once the Chairman finished. She drafted an email to the appropriate people and rose. She needed a cup of coffee and a short break. 

As she looked out the window over the city, she considered her options. This was the opportunity she’d been hoping for. Of course, she knew about Corbin’s exploits from the beginning. It was all she could do to ensure the Bookman’s mistake so that Autor would get the correct financial statement. He would definitely want her to tell him that Mr. Scrivener was suspicious so he could run away, but… she didn’t have to tell him right away, she decided, taking a sip. 

Her computer dinged, the files arriving in record time. She printed them out, placing the most damning ones on top of the pile, and set them on the Chairman’s desk while he was in the middle of a video conference. 

As soon as she left, she pulled out her phone, took a deep breath, and dialed Corbin’s number. “Father, we have a problem…” 

#

Autor was sitting in the back yard when Femio found him. Ahiru had a small plot of land where she was growing cosmos and daisies, and Autor was plucking at the weeds around them. 

“I’m surprised to see you getting your hands dirty,  _ mon cheri _ .” 

“My mother planted the rose garden,” Autor replied by way of explanation. “I’ve always liked flowers, I’m just not as good with them as I am with books. Ink on a page makes sense, keeping something alive…” he held up a stray shriveled leaf, “not so much.” 

Femio smiled as he sat next to Autor and began pulling weeds. He saw Autor watching him quietly out of the corner of his eye. He looked positively gallant with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his slightly messy dark hair. A streak of dirt sat on his cheekbone, somehow enhancing his beauty.

“I’ve been wondering for a while,” Autor said quietly. “Femio, what do you think of me?” 

Femio paused, startled. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I want to know what you think about me. What adjectives come to mind when you look at me,” he stated simply. 

Stunned, Femio stared at Autor. There were certainly many words that came to mind, but most of them would get him fired in an instant. 

“Any adjectives at all,” Autor prompted. He looked at Femio expectantly.

And Femio decided to fuck it all and say it. Mr. Scrivener would probably fire him after they returned to the manor anyway. But… he didn’t want to lose Autor’s friendship either. 

“You’re stunning,” Femio began, deciding it was worth the risk. “Intelligent, graceful, insightful, thoughtful, proud. I love watching you work because you get the most intense, focused look on your face, and I think it’s absolutely adorable. You look like a Greek god has descended upon us unworthy mortals. You don’t have many friends, but the ones you do have, you treasure.”

Autor inched closer as Femio talked until he was practically knee to knee with him. “You’re in love with me,” he stated, staring steadily into Femio’s eyes. 

Femio sighed and looked away. There was no point in lying. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“I wanted to keep it a secret, to not be a burden, not make you uncomfortable,” Femio admitted. “But I suppose I didn’t hide it well enough.” 

Autor shook his head. “I think that you would have fooled someone who wasn’t looking,” he replied. “You’re good at your job, you keep secrets well, you’re always jovial and talkative. You get along with everyone, and you’re handsome to boot.” 

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Femio’s. “Though I’m not sure I would compare you to a god, perhaps just a supermodel.” 

Femio’s heart stuttered. “I-”

Autor cradled Femio’s chin in his hand. “I’m sorry it took me so long to notice. It must have been hard for you.” 

“Not at all,  _ mon cheri _ ,” Femio gasped. 

As the last word left his mouth, Autor angled in and kissed him tentatively, questioningly. Femio’s heart raced and the blood rushed to his cheeks. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Autor’s firmly. He had dreamed of this moment. Femio tangled his hand in Autor’s hair and kissed him hungrily. 

They broke apart quietly. Autor smiled. “I… believe I am quite in love with you, Femio Rosenberg.” 

Femio chuckled. “That’s my line,  _ mon coeur. _ ” 

Suddenly, an engine rumbled in the driveway, then died abruptly. The door of an emerald green sedan shut loudly as Malen walked toward them, bag heavy with paperwork hanging off her shoulder. Femio jumped up to grab it from her. 

“There you are,” Malen said, nodding her thanks to Femio. “I brought more records. Shall we?” 

Autor nodded, and gestured for her to enter the house first. As Femio passed by, he reached out and grazed his hand along the bodyguard’s. Femio smirked and reached back to grab Autor and pull him into the house behind him. As soon as they crossed the threshold, he let go. Now wasn’t the time. 

The trio sat at the dining room table and spread out the files, prepared for a long night of evidence collecting. While Malen disappeared into the kitchen to make a pot of tea, Femio situated himself across from Autor and grinned at him. 

“What?” Autor asked, chest fluttering. His emotions were getting to be a little too much to handle, and if Femio didn’t knock the adorable flirty expression off his face, Malen would be sure to find out. Plus he was highly distracting. “We need to act normal.”

“This is normal,” Femio responded. 

Autor quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Quite. I’ve spent a lot of time smiling at you, you were just too beautifully busy to notice.” 

Autor kicked him as he felt his cheeks heat uncomfortably. He took a deep breath to steady himself and opened up a file to begin reading when Malen returned with three cups of Earl Grey. 

#

Malen wasn’t stupid, in fact, she was rather observant. It’s partially how she was so good at her job. So, when her boss started smiling like a schoolboy, she took notice. As she watched Autor and Femio from the corner of her eye while she read through the files, marking the necessary passages to turn into the police tomorrow, she noticed that their eyes glowed, and that they were working slower than molasses. 

Eventually, she slammed her hand on the table and glared at them. 

“I can appreciate that you two love birds are on cloud nine at the moment, however, we have a lot of work to do and I need you to concentrate. One of you, pick up a stack and go to the bedroom.” 

Autor gawked at her while Femio chuckled and grabbed a pile. He pecked Autor on the cheek. “Malen is quite perceptive,  _ mon coeur _ , better stay on her good side.” 

Femio left the room and they heard the soft click of the closing door. 

“Now that that’s handled,” Malen replied, pushing a stack closer to Autor, “You can do your work more efficiently.” 

Autor looked at the work he had completed versus hers and found that she had, indeed, gotten twice as much done. “Very well,” he said. 

#

That night, Corbin disappeared. When Rue entered his home office, she found it in a state of disarray, like he had dug out the most damning evidence and taken it with him. After taking it in, she turned around and walked right back out. She hadn’t even turned on the lights. 

She lifted her phone to her ear. “Mytho,” she said. “I want to take a drive.” 

Rue knew this wasn’t the end of her conflict with Corbin, but it was an excellent start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took me so long to get done. At first it was just because I needed a break, then my life got a little insane and I wasn't able to write much. Thank you so much for your patience.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my friend Kate who pointed me in the direction of some men's designer brands. Autor wouldn't be nearly as pompous without the name-brands, I think. 
> 
> I am quite happy to get the first chapter of this out for PriTuWriMo 2020. If you liked the story, please leave a comment and/or a kudos. It gives me the inspiration to continue writing. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a fantastic day.


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